the Verve
Urban Hymns CD
Virgin. 44913.
by Keith McLachlan.
December 28, 1997.
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I guess I should have figured it
out right away, right from the picture on the front of the cd. Richard
Ashcroft sits comfortably at the center and looks to the left along with
the other three, while Nick McCabe (resident genius of the band and former
ostracized member) looks more worried and peers in the other direction.
Perhaps Nick is just nervous and non-photogenic but perhaps this is the
most definitive statement on this greatly overhyped and ultimately
severely disappointing record.
It starts off magnificently with the epic single 'Bittersweet Symphony.' With all of it's defiance and hypnotic string loops and determinedly melodic psychedelia it is one of the band's finer moments to date. In fact five of the first six songs actually are closer in feel to 'Storm in Heaven' or even earlier eps like 'She's a Superstar' in that they are long, freeform jams molded into songs rather than tight constructions made for the radio.
Of these tracks 'Catching the Butterfly' is the best. Richard's vocals are not the centerpiece and they add perfectly to the stoned vibe. It is probably no coincidence that 'Catching...' is one of the few songs where Ashcroft is not given a separate writing credit, and no coincidence that the other strong songs on the lp are mostly ones written not by Ashcroft but by the Verve.
The first half of the lp is outstanding and closes with the spaced out, sure to be considered throwaway gem 'Neon Wilderness' which has the only McCabe songwriting credit. Then comes side two and well it turns out that it is all Richard all the time.
Somewhere along the line the Verve have been transformed into a backing band for Richard and his self-serving odes to what a terrible person drugs made him and his personal resistance to all the people who want to hold him down. Problem is that he is neither an affecting, emotive singer nor is he particularly deft with the pen so his lyrics neither inspire devotion through poetic device or harrowing reality.
So 'Sonnet' (which amazingly enough rips off the riff from Spandau Ballet's 'True') sounds flat and unidentifiable. 'Space and Time' sounds like Richard reaching back to the past but without the aid of his better half Mr. McCabe who spends most of the second half of the lp being held in check while Richard continues with his cathartic crusade.
Richard Ashcroft is being hailed as a genius in the UK and I fear if these surprisingly smug songs were written while he was in a nearly defeated state of mind then what of the next LP after this their triumphant (surely to be championed so by the press) return?
Two years ago the Verve removed Nick McCabe from their midst and learned they couldn't live without him. Perhaps this time the revolution should reach a little higher. Maybe Richard should go off and make another solo lp (as really that is what this is) and perhaps McCabe should be allowed to take the reigns and see if he can truly propel this talented lot to the place everyone expects them to go. 'Urban Hymns' is so sickeningly safe and sterile, the heart of the beast that once was the Verve has been ripped out, trampled and left in its place is a morose, non-empathic wimpering stiff.
Vicious Sweet
Obsessively Yours CD
Not Happy. nhcd-007.
by Scott Zimmerman.
May 3, 1998.
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The founding members of the
Vicious Sweet, Valerie Moorhead and Jennifer Yee, both share a love of the
Cure and that fandom reveals itself in the dark, moody Disintegration-era
sort of guitar haze enveloping much of their album 'Obsessively Yours.'
Over the guitars, the two provide bittersweet intertwined vocals with an
edge.
Most of the strongest tracks to my ears fit those descriptions reliably ("Deep Sleep," "Speedqueen," "Blood Stains," etc.) while many other areas of this album are filled with a greater desire to rock than to enrapture, bringing to mind Veruca Salt.
One of the most appealing songs in this collection of twelve is "Thousand Lies." It slowly works its way to a point where a piano makes an appearance, and throughout the rest of the song it's used to very pretty effect. I'm hoping it's a preview of things to come!
Vigil
Exquisita Decadencia CD
Siesta. Siesta 138.
by Keith Mclachlan.
November 4, 2001.
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Pedro Vigil was half of the wonderful Edwin Moses
record that was released last year and which was
designed to make the behinds the world over shake with
gleeful abandon, and now with this record I can assume
he was the musical half, the half in charge of the
flow, as there are no vocals on the record which again
is absolutely perfect, perhaps not for the groove
thang but instead for constructing boundless dreamy
musicals within your imagination. Flowery and
expansive instrumentals abound on the record with
orchestras, theremin, bongos, guitars, kitchen sinks,
etc... all melding together to form a fantastically
poetic soundscape that comes off a bit big band and a
bit jazzy and somewhat televison soundtracky at the
same time. The cover art is a geometric pattern
composed of lunch meat and garnish and while listening
you can't help but have a 'Better Off Dead' moment,
recall the scene where Jon Cusack's hamburgers boogie
to Van Halen before Porky comes in and fires him, well
in this case it might be ham and pepperoni doing
something a bit more formal to the sounds of 'Chasco
Fiesta' perhaps a tango or since the pepperoni is a
bit spicy the charleston. Or the visions engendered
could be a bt more personal, I can't help but imagine
the Rocky Mountains suddenly rising up to enjoy a game
of Frisbee Golf in front of my eyes while I currently
listen to 'Desayuno Continental'. And, truly, this
must be the strength of all wordless music be it
classical or techno and that is the idea that each
listening experience is a new one, borne to your own
interpretations with each exposure is a new vision of
fulfillment. Of course, it is on Siesta, seems most
escapist records these days are, and honestly their
kingdom must be overflowing with possibilities and
that they choose to allow some of it to escape every
few months is the world's undeniable gain.
Vinyl Devotion
"Central Time" 7" vinyl
Flamingo.
by Scott Zimmerman.
November 15, 1997.
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On this single, Vinyl Devotion stroll through two pretty and pleasant
female vocaled indie-rock janglers. The lead guitar comes courtesy of the
man, the legend, Mitch Easter (completists, I know you are out there),
with vocals by Shalini Chaterjee (they're as neat as her name), and drums
by Gil Ray.
If you like bands such as Let's Active, Tarnation, and REM -- in more lengthy terms that is to say artists in possession of a southern sensibility that don't go all out into hillbilly music -- then certainly you will want to show a bit of your own vinyl devotion by seeking out this 7" immediately.
Vinyl Shriner
Saving Children CD
Favorite Street.
by Scott Zimmerman.
August 1, 1996.
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The music of Vinyl Shriner, a guitars/bass/drums/vocals five-piece from
Indiana reminds me a bit of '80s modern rock super group Big Country,
which if you like Big Country you should certainly take as a
recommendation. I only really like a couple of songs by that group (the
ones you hear on the radio).
Incidently, (and I just have to get this out of my system) I saw Big Country perform a couple of years ago and they were beyond terrible. Their drummer, who I think was some big famous guy, was particularly obnoxious on those cymbals.
Anyway, this album starts off with a bang. So much so that my short attention span is somewhat disappointed that the entirety of Saving Children doesn't carry the same immediately magnetic, pop sprite as "Bold Vane," the album's short two minute, ten second lead off homerun of an introduction. I've listened to it about ten times more than the rest of the record, it being one of those songs you can't help but to put on repeat.
Although the remainder of this album did not live up to my initial expectation of twelve monster pop explosions, it does carry a lively pace, solid pleasant vocals, and a nice jangly spirit that sometimes gets replaced by noisy guitars. As far as I can ascertain, the group is having some fun, and that translates to a nice listening experience.
Now what I'm really trying to figure out is this cover--it looks like the playground could be printed in a 3D format, but all my pairs of 3D glasses are ever so elusive, so until I find one, I'll just have to wonder...
the Visitors
Miss CD
Matinee. matcd003.
by Keith McLachlan.
June 30, 2000.
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The voices on these songs belong to young men who have
this grand idea that the things they imagine, the
things they believe in and the things they sing about
are universal, far-reaching and generation defining.
There is a rooted confidence among all of the
sentiments here. Ideas are not thouroughly fleshed out, granted, and
it does not stray all that far away from the
c-86 blueprint of boy meets girl, girl doesn't like
boy's record collection and things go hopelessly awry.
It reminds me a bit of Rodney Allen, who of course reminds everyone of Billy Bragg, yet there is not all that much socialism on display here although they do sound like a band whose members could have become militant and could have gone on to form the politically pungent yet terribly lovely Fragile.
The Wedding Present was their favourite band growing up, the Smiths were their second favourite band, they loved the Brilliant Corners and their everlasting desire was to be featured on Subway Records Organization (all conjecture on my part). Oh but sadly none of that ever happened. They are all now likely or probably, maybe, raising sheep in New Zealand with the Thompson Twins.
Somehow the Matinee guy unearthed these super excellent recordings and gave them their societal heart enlivening release. All of us can suffer blissfully as it causes rapid attacks of happiness and superlove. Hopefully there is no reunion tour in the offing. How can youth that once roared like the wind be delivered by balding guys doing collective performance art impersonations of travelling sprinklers? This hope, even though I have, this brilliant vision in my mind's eye of the Visitors performing a rousing encore consisting of a studied version of 'Throwing Stones' by Sneaky Feelings whom, speaking of New Zealand and not mentioning professional golfer Michael Campbell or the America's Cup, seem to be their antipodean counterbalance both stylistically and emotionally.